


Sometimes The Clothes Do Not Make The Man

by ChocolateCapCookie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Family, Domestic Avengers, M/M, Minor Bruce Banner/Thor, Oblivious Tony Stark, Out of Character, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, The Avengers Are Good Bros, a lil bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21707617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCapCookie/pseuds/ChocolateCapCookie
Summary: Tony was always so well-dressed, but Steve just blended in with the others, wearing shorts and t-shirts all the time. Maybe if he dressed up, if he actually put some effort into his clothes, Tony would notice him as more than a teammate. And that’s what Steve wants.Steve is pining and is willing to do anything to get Tony's attention...no matter how far he has to go.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 109





	Sometimes The Clothes Do Not Make The Man

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone like myself who has no idea what this phrase means (or basically, all non-Americans): _”Run it up the flagpole and see if anyone salutes" is an expression. It means to float an idea to see what people think, or if they notice. The term is commonly used in advertising and print media. Run it Up the Flagpole to See if Anyone Salutes Day is set aside to allow people to do just that: be creative today. Use this day to try and test new ideas and concepts. Don't limit the ideas to business applications. In your personal life, try out a new dress or clothing style, perhaps a different haircut. Or, maybe buy a new houseflag and run it up the flagpole to see if anyone salutes...or even notices."_
> 
> I hope you like it!

“I like the 40’s flag better,” gripes Steve, but without any heat behind his words. “It was more...square and perfect.”

“For God’s sake, Cap, it’s just two more stars,” says Clint, feigning interest in the conversation but visibly engrossed in a game of Angry Birds on his phone. Steve watches his progress with interest for a few minutes before he remembers he’s in the middle of an argument.

“Forty-eight stars were perfectly symmetrical,” he says lazily, more to make a point than out of any sincere conviction. ‘This new fifty-star flag is so uneven, it looks really unprofessional.” He yawns and sets his head back on the couch. This is a normal afternoon in Avengers Tower: the team teasingly heckling each other and disagreeing on really stupid stuff. Today, the temperature is unnaturally high and the team is spread lazily in the common area, “chilling” as the modern youth call it. Wiping a line of sweat off his forehead though, Steve feels the very opposite of chilled.

“The flag isn’t meant to be professional, Steven,” retorts Natasha without looking up from the pile of paperwork she’s puzzling over. “Look at us, we’re the Avengers! Do we look in any way professional to you?”

Steve looks around the room, taking in his team members’ appearances. Bruce and Thor are seated close together, but not touching too much, which is a sign of the extreme heat. Even in thin tank tops and shorts, the two can’t cuddle without risking heat stroke. They make up for it though, with their hands on each others’ knees and random kisses stolen when they think the rest of the team isn’t looking. It’s exceedingly adorable, but definitely not professional.

Clint is curled up on the sofa, trying to maximize the amount of skin that touches the cool leather he’s seated on. He’s wearing shorts too, and a Stark Industries t-shirt that definitely used to be Tony’s. Steve can tell because the seam of the shoulder droops a little off of Clint’s actual shoulder, meaning it’s slightly too big for him, and the only team member who’s slightly bigger than Clint is Tony. Plus, there’s a hole cut slightly left of the center of the t-shirt, perfectly exposing one of Clint’s nipples, that was clearly meant for the arc reactor. He notices Steve’s inquisitive gaze and sticks his tongue out.

“It gets a good breeze to my chest, Cap!”

Steve elects to ignore this, turning his attention instead to Natasha. She’s wearing booty shorts and a baby-blue tank top, the most casual he’s ever seen her. No matter how much she trusts the team, she tries to cover up and have some level of modesty around them. After all, she’s one girl living with five guys. Still, the heat forces people out of their comfort zones, and Steve watches her perfectly shaped leg swing back and forth a few times as she concentrates on her SHIELD-assigned paperwork.

Steve himself is wearing a simple grey t-shirt and shorts. The shorts, amusingly, have a line resembling the American flag running up both sides, which was how the earlier discussion had started.

Steve takes a few seconds to come up with a good retort to Natasha’s statement, but before he can say anything, Tony walks in. Tony’s chattering endlessly into his phone, but Steve doesn’t focus on what he’s saying. He even forgets the very clever comeback he’d prepared. He’s too busy taking Tony’s appearance in.

Tony is dressed in an ensemble that makes it very clear that he’s the CEO of a company in the top 25 of the Forbes 500. He’s wearing a dark grey suit with a light blue shirt. His belt and his shoes are the exact same shade of black (Steve went to art school, he can differentiate shades of black. That’s not something the serum gave him), and the only pops of colour on him are the thin pink stripes on his navy tie. It’s a light, baby-girl pink, but it's still a colour.

Despite the heat, Tony seems cool as a cucumber and Steve gulps as he realizes he’s been staring at Tony for over five minutes. Tony doesn’t seem to have noticed, since he’s currently seated with Bruce and Thor, happily talking about something sciency or the other. Clint and Natasha are giving him knowing looks but he elects to ignore them, focusing instead on himself.

He looks good today, right? At home, Steve usually dresses casually, so what he’s wearing isn’t much out of his normal routine. Still, the t-shirt is a bit thinner than usual, because the thinner the better in this heat, and he knows that anyone who took the effort to look would see a hint of his nipples. The shorts are pretty normal, but they  _ are  _ a little tight, and he was hoping they would accentuate his ass. They did, didn’t they? So why was Tony still not paying him any attention?

Maybe he was just tired of seeing Steve in all this casual shit every time he looked. Tony was always so well-dressed, but Steve just blended in with the others, wearing shorts and t-shirts all the time. Maybe if he dressed up, if he actually put some effort into his clothes, Tony would notice him as more than a teammate. And that’s what Steve wants.

Most people would start something like changing their personal style slow, but Steve isn’t most people. As soon as he can comfortably leave the company of the others, he runs to his quarters and pulls open his closet, staring into its depths. He doesn’t own too many clothes, not like Tony, but what he does own is mostly t-shirts and jeans and shorts. He has a few button-ups, a few formal shirts and two suits currently in his cupboard. Tony offered to get him more, considering how many gala events the Avengers will have to attend in the future, but Steve declined, uncomfortable with the thought of owning too many expensive things. At his core, he’s still a scrawny kid from Brooklyn, who grew up during the Depression and loathes waste of any kind.

Steve takes in the contents of his cupboard again, this time looking more carefully to see if he missed anything. No such luck. Besides a drawerful of socks and underwear, and another drawer where he’s stuffed the Captain America suit and a bunch of undershirts, he’s seen everything.

Steve sighs and pulls out the shirts and button-ups. He’s going to have to do laundry a lot more often now that he’s down to only a quarter of his clothes.

  
  
  


The next day, Steve’s dolled up all nice-looking, and he’s standing in front of his mirror, nervously trying to fix his hair. He’s not dressed  _ formally _ by any means, but his deep maroon button-down shirt and black almost-skinny jeans are still a little too dressy for just hanging out in the Tower. He worries his bottom lip nervously between his teeth as he stares at himself in the floor length mirror. He’s definitely overdressed. Would the others laugh at him? Make fun of him? What if Clint and Natasha are in a particularly nasty mood today?

Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, he tries to look at himself from a fresh perspective: the shirt accentuates his biceps and the jeans are almost sinful in the way they cling to his ass and thighs. He looks really good, if he does say so himself, and if this doesn’t grab Tony’s attention, nothing will. So it’s worth the teasing from the team. Right?

_ Well, no time like the present,  _ Steve tells himself as he walks out of his room to the communal kitchen. He’s inwardly quaking with nervousness, but he manages to hide it well as he walks inside to where the team is seated around the kitchen island. He’s later than he usually is, possibly because he spent so much time primping himself up, and he gratefully accepts the steaming cup of coffee that’s placed in his usual spot in his usual mug. He can’t drink it, though, because he’s too busy nervously gauging everyone’s reaction to his outfit choices.

Looking around him, he can almost anticipate Nat and Clint’s sarcastic quips. He shakes his head, ready to receive them through the day. Bruce mostly just looks confused,as if he’s wondering why anyone would go through so much effort this early in the morning (in his heart of hearts, Steve agrees.) Thor scans Steve up and down appreciatively, eyeing his ass and pecs with clear interest, despite having his boyfriend cuddled up to him in his arms. Steve doesn’t flatter himself; Thor still doesn’t know how Earth customs work and he probably has no idea what ‘overdressed’ even means, considering his usual work uniform involves a gold helmet and an astonishingly beautiful but very impractical cape.

The only Avenger who  _ hasn’t  _ noticed what Steve is wearing is Tony, who is clearly sleep-deprived and has eyes for nothing else but his precious coffee. Bruce tries to force-feed him a spoonful of cereal, but Tony turns his head away, fussing like a baby, not interacting with anyone until he’s finished his coffee. Even then, he says only the most cursory words and greetings to everyone before leaving again to complete whatever project he is working on. He hasn’t even  _ noticed  _ Steve’s new style, let alone commented on it or given Steve any attention.

Steve wants to hide in his room and sulk for the rest of the day, but he doesn’t. He’s Captain America, after all, he still has some standards to maintain. With a sigh, he faces the others, readying himself for a barrage of roasts and witticisms.

They never come.

He feels Natasha place a gentle hand on his shoulder and he looks up at her in surprise. “You look good, Steve,” she says in a voice softer and kinder than Steve’s ever heard from her before. “You should try again when he’s not as...pre-occupied.”

Steve blushes fiercely, embarrassed to his core. “How...how did you know?” he squeaks, his voice high.

“You’re pretty obvious about it, Cap,” laughs Clint around a mouthful of toast. “I say go for it. You guys are like, made for each other.”

“I agree,” says Thor, swallowing three differently flavoured Pop-Tarts at the same time, whole. Steve doesn’t know whether to be impressed or disgusted. “Perhaps you and Stark are not destined to be together, as I am with my mate-” he pulls Bruce towards him in a tight hug as Bruce rolls his eyes fondly, “-but I feel the stars will align for the both of you, Captain. You must take this opportunity to court him.”

“I’m not courting anyone,” says Steve with dignity, relieved that his voice has gone back to normal. He cuts them off before anyone can say anything else even vaguely related to his love life. “Training starts in fifteen minutes, and I expect to see all of you at the gym on time.”

The team grumbles, but nobody argues against their fearless captain.

  
  
  


Okay, so the smart-casual look didn’t work. Steve lies awake in his bed that night pondering his choices, and where he’d gone wrong. Maybe he wasn’t dressed-up enough? Even in Tony’s most sleep-deprived, unprofessional state, he looks and moves and acts so gracefully that every conversation could be one he’s having with the President. Steve just has to up his game a little. It’s not just the clothes, he needs to change his attitude and style and just his general  _ air.  _ Tony’s always so outgoing and elegant; he’s not going to be attracted to stoic, solid, sensible Steve unless Steve does some major maintenance work on himself. He needs to change himself to be like Tony.

The next morning, Steve carefully dresses up in the cleanest, plainest white shirt he can find, pairing it with dark grey pants. He makes sure that everything is pressed and wrinkle-free, the collar and sleeves starched to the end of the line. He looks at himself in the mirror, biting his lip. He looks perfectly dressed up to go to a business meeting or someone's wedding, but definitely not for morning breakfast.

Steve feels rather like an ancient butler as he slips a striped grey and blue tie around his neck, but imitation is the sincerest form of flattery after all, and if the only way he can get Tony’s attention is by imitating his dress style, well, he can’t help it. Steve debates for a moment on whether he should wear cufflinks, but dismisses the idea. Even his heated passion for Tony isn’t going to make him go that far.

The team don’t contain themselves as well as they did yesterday. Bruce guffaws as he catches sight of Steve, while Clint’s mouth drops open comically, exposing them to the frankly disgusting sight of half-chewed milk and cereal. Steve ignores them once again, his spirits sinking a bit when he realizes Tony isn’t there yet. Well, he’d be up at some point, anyway; Steve hadn’t put so much effort into his clothes to give up within the first few minutes.

As he predicted, Tony walks into the kitchen not half an hour later just as Steve finishes frying a few rashers of bacon for himself. Unlike every other day, when Tony walked in sleep-deprived and dragging his feet behind him, today the man is practically dancing, a smug smile on his face.

“What are you so happy about?” asks Natasha idly, sipping her black coffee from an equally black mug. Tony grins and gives her a quick hug on his way to the coffee machine.

“I asked Pepper out on a date...and she said yes!” He gives little whoop of joy before he leaves the kitchen, not having noticed Steve’s ensemble at all. Not that it matters now anyway. Fucking Pepper.

Biting his lip, he turns to face his breakfast, unable to deal with the others’ sympathetic looks and knowing glances. In fact, he can feel their pity so clearly that he stands up and leaves the room abruptly, the bacon cooling on the pan be damned.

Steve locks himself in his room and collapses on the bed. He refuses to cry or let a single tear slip out; he’s not a teenage girl in a cutesy little rom-com. He potters around mindlessly, trying to think about anything but Tony and Pepper (which leads him down a very interesting rabbit hole of googling salt and its origins). He mostly succeeds, but he ends up having to apologize to a couple of pillows that he’d laid down with maybe a little too much force.

By the end of the day, try as he might, he can’t stop a few tears rolling down his face as he thinks about Tony and his pathetic, failed attempts at impressing him. He never should have tried, he thinks as he angrily wipes the traitorous tears away. He went and made a fool of himself, looking for even a tiny scrap of Tony’s attention, and guess what? Tony doesn’t care! And Steve was stupid for expecting him to. Why would amazing, brilliant, gorgeous Tony spare even a second’s thought for Steve the Stupid?

He’s wallowing in self-pity and he knows it. He doesn’t want to be even more pathetic than he probably already seems to the others, so when the team gets an alert from SHIELD requesting their help, Steve volunteers for the mission. It was probably best anyway, staying away from Tony and Pepper for a bit.

It is a pretty run-of-the-mill taking-down-bad guys mission, and Steve and the SHIELD agents assigned to work with him get through it half the time they usually take. If Steve pictures a blond ponytail on the head of every bad-guy guard he punches in the search for justice, well, nobody else needs to know.

The mission is completed in five days, a pretty quick time frame for the Avengers. The SHIELD debriefing takes hours and goes on well until the early hours of the morning, but Steve declines the offer to stay in SHIELD quarters, wanting to get back to his soft comfy bed as soon as he can. The train from DC to New York is delayed, and then Steve has trouble finding a taxi this early in the morning. By the time he actually reaches the Tower, it's pretty late (or early, depending on how you look at) and Steve can’t wait to stuff himself with carbs and then sleep for three days straight.

He walks into the kitchen in his Cap uniform, still grimy and sweaty from the mission and the early-morning travel. The suit is torn in several places, exposing large swathes of skin on his back and legs, and his hair isn’t blond anymore, more dark brown with all the dirt and dust on it, but Steve is so tired he doesn’t care. He turns the coffee-maker on and then, looking at the time, makes enough for the whole team. He’s always nice like that.

The first sip of warm coffee feels like it’s warming Steve’s very soul. He smiles dopily, his eyes closed and head laid against a wall as the hot coffee runs down his throat and the warm cup heats his hands. He vaguely hears the others enter and tiredly cracks an eye open to nod at them, but doesn’t have the energy to do much more.

The others nod back at him, gratefully accepting the coffee he’s kept ready for them. Natasha seats herself squarely next to Steve asking him about the mission and giving him general updates about what he’s missed. Steve answers politely but he’s really dreaming of his bed and he can’t wait to burrow in there, away from everyone.

Before he can act on his impulse though, he sees Tony walk in, and his eyes open wide involuntarily. He hates how little he can contain himself around Tony.

Unlike the happy glowing Tony of last week, today’s Tony is slightly more normal. He looks like he’s slept through the night, but he seems depressed and out of it, grabbing a coffee cup and seating himself without so much as a word to the rest of the team. Natasha reaches up to whisper in Steve’s ear, “Their date didn’t go so well,” she says, and Steve feels guilty about the shiver of pleasure that runs up his spine at those words. “I thought he’d be more depressed about it,” muses Natasha, looking over at Tony’s slumped form. “But he’s taking it better than I thought.”

At that moment, Tony catches Steve’s eyes. Steve can almost literally see the different emotions flashing through Tony’s face, though he can’t pinpoint one exactly. Abruptly, Tony stands up and pushes Natasha out of her chair so he can sit next to Steve.

“You just got back?” he asks Steve quietly, apparently able to tell how tired he is. Steve is grateful, but he can’t bring himself to look at Tony’s warm, brown eyes, so he looks down into his coffee cup instead, nodding noncommittally as an answer.

“I would ask how it went, but clearly it wasn’t all that great,” says Tony, gesturing to Steve’s torn, filthy uniform and Steve flushes. Maybe he doesn’t have a chance with Tony anymore, but that doesn’t mean he wants Tony to see him like this.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, contemplating how unfair it is that Tony doesn’t notice when Steve makes a fool of himself dressing up for him, but is all friendly and cuddly when Steve looks like shit. Life is so unfair.

“Don’t be, Cap, you still look great,” says Tony with a smile, placing his hand on Steve’s. Steve feels a frisson of warmth run up his entire arm from that simple touch. He vaguely registers Natasha leaving the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone. When had the others left? Steve didn’t know, and he doesn’t really care at the moment.

“I heard your date with Pepper didn’t go well,” says Steve hesitantly, afraid that it’s a potential conversational minefield. To his surprise, Tony just shrugs.

“It took two courses to figure out we weren’t right for each other. We kept arguing over the chicken and the lamb; imagine how we’d have been in a relationship.” Tony chuckles and Steve smiles as he continues, “I thought I liked her, but going on that date really just made it clear that I liked someone else.” He shrugs again and Steve feels an irrational surge of hope. It's stupid, he tells himself, he doesn't mean you. It doesn’t seem to help.

“I wasn’t joking, ya know?” says Tony abruptly. “You do look good like this.”

“I’ve been dressing up like a fool to get your attention,” blurts Steve before he can catch himself. “And you tell me I look good  _ now?  _ When I look like this?!” Tony smirks at that and Steve blushes tomato-red. Fuck, he shouldn’t have admitted that.

“You dressed up just for me, huh?” he says softly, almost seductively. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.” He slides his hand up Steve’s arm to cup his cheek, never once breaking contact. “I’d love to see it again, though. As long as it’s just for me.”

Steve smiles and leans tentatively in for a kiss. He’s managed to get Tony’s attention after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Pls leave a comment if you liked this, because that's the best motivation I can get to finish this without giving up halfway.
> 
> Again, thank you for reading, and I love you 3000!


End file.
